A Shield Against the Dark
by Emiliya Wolfe
Summary: When Graves goes to investigate unusual magical activity, he wasn't expecting to find a mysterious young man in his twenties at the site of the crime. Set before FB.


**For Emily - enjoy some Credence/Graves on your (belated) birthday**

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 **To the forum people: prompts are at the bottom.**

 **Thank you to TheRottenJas, The Kawaii Neko and The Lady Rogue for betaing!**

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Percival carefully crept around the building, hand firmly gripping his wand in his pocket. He schooled his face into an expressionless mask – there were still several No-Maj in the vicinity. Too many wizards got caught with their wands out, simply because they thought themselves alone in a deserted alleyway. Percival refused to be caught out on something so humiliatingly simple.

He had never seen such wanton destruction before. The alleyway had caved in, showing glimpses of the New York metro beneath. A post box had crumpled in on itself as if all the air within had disappeared at once. The carcass of a rat lay flattened by a piece of rubble, its eyes bulging with fright. If Percival hadn't known better, he would have suspected some sort of magical creature at work, but there was nothing that could create this scale of destruction without leaving a trace.

But there had been a trace, Percival had to remind himself, his brow furrowing slightly. The report had specifically mentioned a distinct magical trace. That was the very reason why he was here, back to average field work. No one else had managed to solve the puzzle. Of course, that was one of the reasons Percival had accepted the job in the first place.

A sniffling sound snapped his attention back to the task at hand. Setting his jaw, he scanned the windowless buildings, straining his ears.

There it was again.

Percival swiftly took out his wand, nonverbally performing a Human-presence-revealing Spell, and moved towards the red outline that showed up to his right. Stepping carefully through the window of the broken storefront to avoid getting cut, the noise came to an abrupt halt as Percival stepped on the shards of glass beyond.

In the corner, half-hidden by the shadows, was a young man in his early twenties, arms wrapped around his knees and feet tucked under him as he cowered into the wall, trying to seem as unobtrusive as possible.

Immediately, intuition told Percival that this boy was important somehow. He had survived the blast, something no mere No-Maj could do, but the MACUSA would have registered the spells if he had used magic. In the same moment, he realised that this boy would need to be treated with delicacy. His reaction was too atypical not to err on the side of caution.

So he took one careful step forwards, then another, then another, pausing when the boy flinched away. The silence weighed heavily on the both of them, but Percival was used to silence. It was soothing and not to be disrespected. On it went until he found himself crouched down by the boy.

His hair was dark, Percival noted, and cut into a Puritan bob that reminded him of the Second Salemers that Goldstein often cited as a threat to the wizarding community. His trembling lips were stretched into a grimace, eyes wide but eyebrows furrowed as he watched Percival with apprehension. His arms were too thin, too weak to shield his body the way they should have.

It was a look that Percival Graves had seen all too many times.

'You know, you shouldn't be out alone at this time of night,' he said finally, breaking the silence. The boy flinched. 'It's dangerous, but most importantly, you could catch a cold.' Percival paused, holding his hand out, palm facing the sky. 'Why don't we warm you up with a cup of cocoa?'

'I should get back to my Mom,' the boy replied, his voice shaking. 'It's late.'

'I'll get you back home,' Percival promised, hand still outstretched. 'You can trust me. What's your name?'

'Credence.'

'Credence,' Percival repeated. Definitely one of the New Salemers. 'You're late anyway. A cup of cocoa won't make any difference to your mom. But it will to you.'

Credence bit his lip, looking down. Slowly, but surely, a hand crept forth to touch Percival's. It was cold as ice and Percival grasped it tightly as he helped Credence up. When the boy took a step towards the exit, Percival extended his wand one last time, casting a quick Heating Charm.

He would check later to see if it came up on the records as using magic in the presence of a Muggle.

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Two months later, the sun was just setting, casting shadows and rays of red light across the alleyway when Credence came into view. Percival put his suitcase down and blew on his hands, rubbing them together through the fabric of his leather gloves. He didn't dare cast a spell. He had received reports of Grindelwald lurking about New York, and was under no illusion as to what had drawn him here.

At first glance, Credence didn't seem like much. A religious fanatic, a troubled youth dominated by his adoptive mother. But under the surface, Percival had discovered a whole other person. He was kind, a gentle soul that believed in miracles and happy endings. And if Percival's suspicions were correct, then he was a powerful wizard, able to withstand the trauma of being an Obscurial for over twice as long as the average child.

Percival hadn't mentioned his suspicions to the MACUSA yet. For one, Credence would be eliminated, deemed a threat to wizarding kind and humanity as a whole. And for another... Percival felt a kinship with this awkward young man, bizarre as it may seem. He was idealistic where Percival had long lost hope. He was gentle, stopping once to prevent Percival from stepping on a spider, going so far as to thrust an arm in front of the older man's chest, a true act of courage for someone who spent so much of his life cowering from the world.

Percival himself spent his nights thinking up ways to throw Grindelwald off the boy's scent, and his days making sure that Credence was safe. He had warded different buildings, but never the New Salemers', worried that it would draw attention to the building. He had even demoted Goldstein for interfering with one of Credence's beatings in such a public way, though he was itching to make Mary Lou pay for what she did. More than that… Percival felt needed. Depended upon. He hadn't realised how much he enjoyed the feeling until now.

'Hello Mr. Graves,' Credence greeted him, interrupting his musing. 'I've been doing as you asked.'

'The exercises,' Percival remembered, grasping the suitcase and handing it to Credence. It was filled with warm clothes for Credence and his sisters – "charity" if their mother ever asked – but also held trinkets from the wizarding world. It had come as no surprise to Percival to learn that Credence's mother had been a witch. 'Do they help?'

'Yes, Mr. Graves,' Credence replied, nodding fervently. 'I haven't had an episode in two weeks now. And I feel...' he ducked his head, a red blush tingeing his cheeks.

'You feel...' Percival prompted. Long gone were the times when Credence ran from his words.

'Safe,' Credence said meekly, his dark eyes flickering up to meet Percival's own.

An unfamiliar warmth blossomed in Percival's chest. He often felt a sense of satisfaction and pride when a job was successful, but this... this was something else entirely. Something that wanted to be expressed, but he didn't know how. He didn't know if he wanted to. He settled for putting a hand on Credence's shoulder, letting the weight of it reassure the young man.

'That's good,' he said, infusing his words with meaning.

Credence's blush spread and he looked back down, though he didn't shy from Percival's touch. It was progress, Percival thought, before his mind turned to darker things.

'Listen to me, Credence, and listen carefully,' he said urgently, grasping Credence's other shoulder in a bid to get through to him. 'You must not speak of magic, or of your abilities, to anyone but myself. Do I make myself clear? There are people who would not understand you, people who would very much like to hurt you, from the wizarding world. You must trust no one.'

'Will you still come to see me?' Credence asked, his voice laced with worry as his brow creased.

'I will,' Graves promised. 'Every second day, when the sun sets, I will be here. I will do everything in my power to make sure that these people will not find you, not before you have full control of your abilities.'

'And... when I do,' Credence hesitated, before ploughing on, hope shining through his words. 'Will I be accepted? Can I be a- a part of your world? The wizarding world? I won't be different?'

'You'll always be different, Credence, but you will belong,' Percival replied. He did not know when, or how, but he knew that Credence was a wizard, and that was all that should matter. 'But for now, you need to keep this a secret. Don't tell anyone about our meetings.'

'I won't,' Credence promised, his voice trembling. A bell tolled, and Percival released the young man from his grasp.

'Go,' he said. 'You can't be late. I won't have you be late on my account.'

Credence nodded, running from the alleyway. He glanced back once as he reached the corner, before disappearing into the crowds. Percival lingered for a while, before shadowing the boy home. He needed protection, and Percival was the best he was going to get.

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'I'm not sure a wand would work for you, Credence,' Percival admitted with a tight smile, feeling his heart drop with the young man's smile. He didn't usually voice his assumptions before they became facts, but he didn't want Credence to get his hopes up too soon. 'Yours is a particular case and–'

He stopped abruptly as the sensor ward chimed, his wand vibrating in its holster on his arm. Instinctively, he crossed the empty room to peer out of the large window, but of course, there was nothing but the usual bustle of passer-bys. Not even Mary Lou could be seen, having taken the girls out on a "mission" as she liked to call it, leaving Credence to clean their house.

However, if Grindelwald truly wanted Credence, he would employ more subtle means than that.

'And…?'

'Shhh...'

Percival turned back to Credence, with his wide doe-like eyes, and held up a hand for silence. Credence shuffled his feet, and the floorboards creaked. Percival winced, swiftly moving between Credence and the exit. The air was crackling with tension, his hairs standing on the back of his head.

Immediately, he dove onto Credence, sending the boy tumbling to the ground with an _oomph_. Percival had no time to feel guilty about crushing him with his weight though, as he twisted back to his feet in a crouch.

Grindelwald revealed himself with a clap, the powerful Disillusionment Charm fading as he stepped forwards. It was the first time Percival had seen him in person. The golden curls, the electric blue eyes, the self-satisfied smirk, they were all the same as the newspapers. But there was something else that parchment hadn't quite been able to capture, a gleeful, almost maniacal air that had Percival on edge. This was someone unpredictable.

'Oh, very well done, Graves,' Grindelwald said, and his voice was lilting, benignly mocking. 'Your position is well-earned. I must admit, I have been looking forward to testing my skills against the best of MACUSA. Are the geese across the pond also hissers, or do they bite as well?'

Graves didn't quite understand the metaphor, but the wizard's riddles could wait.

'Get away from here, Credence,' he said calmly. 'Run, and don't look back.'

'But–'

'No buts, Credence.'

'You think I'm here for the Squib?' Grindelwald scoffed, throwing back his curly locks. 'Don't make me laugh. Although,' a smile spread across his handsome features, eyes glinting with excitement, 'it could make things more fun. _Crucio!_ '

A flick of Percival's wand ripped the door from its hinges, sending it flying between the spell and Credence, who dove into the next room, peering over the edge of the doorway in fright. Grindelwald's blonde eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch before the two men began duelling in earnest, jets of light shooting across the room in a silent but deadly battle.

'Mr. Graves!' Credence suddenly cried out in horror, breaking Percival's concentration.

He snapped his attention to Credence, who was wrapped in ropes of vine that slowly squeezed tighter. It must have been some sort of modified _Incarcerous_ charm, but what worried Percival more was that he hadn't even noticed the spell being cast. Summoning his remaining energy, he sharpened it into one pure weapon of determination, before sending it out like a shockwave through the room.

Caught off-guard by this piece of wandless magic, Grindelwald was knocked off his feet. Without missing a beat, Percival raced to Credence's side. It had been the last remaining card up his sleeve, his usual _coup-de-grace_ , but he knew it wouldn't hold Grindelwald for long.

Percival knew when he was outmatched.

'Relax, Credence, I'm going to save you,' he soothed, working over the spell with diagnostics in an attempt to find the counter curse. His best guess was a replica of Devil's Snare, but he had never come across this brand of magic before. 'Just relax, I'll get you out of this,' he repeated, angry at the worry that crept into his voice.

 _Diffindo_ proved to be useless, so he conjured a knife, hacking at the vines the old-fashioned way, watching them wither into dust as he did so. The tightness in his chest lessened, and he allowed himself to relax as he cut out the last of the magical bonds.

'Credence?' a voice called faintly, and with a stab of panic, Percival realised that Mary Lou had returned. 'Have you started the soup? The children will be here soon. We're going to collect them from school, so the soup best be finished by the time I return.'

Percival met Credence's horror-struck eyes and smiled reassuringly. He would free Credence, and then he would create a diversion on the opposing street, get the Muggles out of here before Grindelwald brought ruin to them all. Still, it was a relief when they heard the door slam closed, signifying that Mary Lou and the girls had gone to hand out flyers at the school exit.

'Hear that, Graves? The children will be here soon,' Grindelwald's voice crooned from behind him. 'So you had better scream quietly. _Crucio._ '

Percival's body felt as though it was on fire, as though he had poison running through his veins, igniting everything in its passage. He breathed heavily as he tried not to scream. If the Muggles came back and heard, if _children_ came running to see... He didn't want to finish that thought. All too soon, he couldn't even think, his brain threatening to break free of its shell. He moaned, clutching his head in an attempt to reduce the pain.

'Interesting, isn't it?' Grindelwald's voice came, light and easy, but filled with loving care. 'I spent years perfecting the curse. I pushed the borders of the _Cruciatus_ further than ever before, a king among peasants. Its crude, rudimentary form puts shame on the beauty of the Dark Arts.'

The burning sensation moved to Percival's eyes. He lifted a hand to gouge them out, to rid himself of the curse once and for all, but quickly suppressed the feeling, aware that it was all in his head. Instead, he squeezed his eyes tightly, hot tears leaking from each side.

'I'm sure you're aware of what I'm looking for, Graves,' Grindelwald continued with a hint of disappointment. 'Now, you could tell me right now, as the children arrive, and save me the trouble, or I can pick at every part of your brain until I extract the information myself. Which will it be?'

Percival refused to deign him with an answer. The pain intensified… and then suddenly, abruptly, it was gone. He sucked in a ragged gasp of air as a wave of relief washed over him, followed by a gust of cold air as the roof ripped off, exposing them to the winter elements. A great wind tore about the building, causing Percival to cringe, instinctively clasping his hands to his ears to muffle the whistle and closing his eyes against its bite.

A loud creak resounded around the room as the beams groaned under the weight of the magic, the walls vibrating with the effort of holding together. Percival opened his eyes at Grindelwald's shriek of pain and surprise, twisting his head to try to understand what had happened, when the floor suddenly collapsed, sending him crashing to the stone tiles in the room below. He wheezed in pain as the breath was knocked from him, his vision going dark as he gasped and coughed for oxygen.

A few seconds – or was it a few minutes? – later, a cold hand touched his cheek, pulling him up and cradling his head to a warm body. Blearily, Percival opened his eyes, squinting at the harsh light. Quickly, a scarf was put up as a shield, allowing his vision to focus on wide, innocent, dark eyes. He coughed, attempting to move, but his body protested, falling back to the floor.

'Don't try to move, Mr Graves,' Credence hushed him with a whisper, rocking his head slightly. 'The bad wizard is gone. I'll protect you.'

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 **QLFC, Keeper: King: Write about a character who needs defending. (word) king**

 **Hogwarts Assignment #8, DADA: write about someone being tormented.**

 **Extra prompt: (pairing) Credence/Graves**

 **Newt Scamander's suitcase - write about somewhere feeling like home.**

 **Extra prompt: (word) safe, (colour) electric blue.**

 **Eilonwy - The Black Cauldron - Write about showing belief in someone.**

 **Fir Wand: (pairing) Graves/Credence, (item) suitcase, (word) miracle.**

 **2901 words**


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